


If You're Feeling Happy (Someone Else is Always Sad)

by RDcantRead



Series: Keeping His Thoughts To Himself (He'd Be Leaving Soon) [2]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Five Stages of Grief, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 07:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20689769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RDcantRead/pseuds/RDcantRead
Summary: It was a sight so terrifyingly tragic, yet so tragically alluring, that it was almost impossible to look away from, and it was only once Freddie looked away could he fully understand the horror that had happened.Roger was dead.





	If You're Feeling Happy (Someone Else is Always Sad)

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "Pain is So Close to Pleasure" by Queen.

Lately, it wasn't bad being Queen, according to Freddie. True, it wasn't argument free, but it never really was, in their band. And looking back, Freddie doesn't know how he didn't see it coming. 

He hadn't stopped to consider that maybe not everyone was as okay with being Queen, was as happy during this time as he was.

Honestly, he hadn't really given a thought to Roger, more worried about healing Brian and John's rift following Hot Space, more concerned about doing things right this time. Roger had seemed to be fine.

He hadn't been really talking much, but he hadn't been talking much during Hot Space when tensions were high and stress levels were even higher. When speaking up could get you ostracised. So really, it made sense for Roger  _ not  _ to want to speak up. 

Freddie can admit that he fell into the routine of ignoring Roger, of being used to silence from the drum section. In the back of his mind he knew that something wasn't right, but he thought that maybe something wasn't right with him rather than with someone else. 

And he could make up loads of excuses, analyse why he didn't notice something was wrong, but the truth was, that he was so wrapped up in how happy he was with the new developments in their music, and with the lack of tension in the studio, that he didn't even consider the fact that someone could be unhappy, especially someone so close to him.

So he was surprised when Roger didn't appear in the studio again after the weekend, they hadn't planned to do anything together that weekend, despite the sunny weather. Well, he wasn't at all surprised in the beginning, really, he was just kind of annoyed at Roger for being late to the studio.

And then he didn't appear. He wasn't late, he just didn't come. That was when he grew worried, Roger wasn't one to casually blow off studio time without a good reason, so they were suspicious of what could have happened.

They certainly didn't expect to find him lying motionless on his king sized bed, alone. And it was immediately obvious that he wasn't sleeping, his limbs positioned awkwardly, no sign of breathing. 

There was no note. An empty box of sleeping pills were in the nightstand, along with a half drunk bottle of vodka. 

His skin was cold to the touch and his pink lips blue. He seemed almost… peaceful, in a way, the struggles of life washed off his beautiful features. The beauty of death embracing him like a lover's embrace.

It was a sight so terrifyingly tragic, yet so tragically alluring, that it was almost impossible to look away from, and it was only once Freddie looked away could he fully understand the horror that had happened. 

Roger was dead. And by his own hand. 

There was no note. Nothing to tell them what was wrong, nobody to shoulder the blame, no one to shove responsibility at. Guilt biting at Freddie at every turn, every whisper of a possibility that  _ something might not be right. _

He had been happy. Happier than he could remember being in a while before the beginning of this album, before being back in the same creative space as his best friends. Before all of it came crashing down.

He knew Brian would be eaten at by guilt, shredded apart by the mind he prized, but he couldn't bring himself to console Brian when he himself was so consumed by the retrospective thoughts of what went wrong.

And John would be devastated, Roger had welcomed him with open arms right at the beginning, supporting him, making him feel like a part of the group. And it all fell on Freddie to make sure that all of them survive it. That they don't lose another, that they look out for one another.

There was no note, but there was a song, written in a notebook thrown into the corner of the downstairs study, scrapped and left to fester. It was dated a few months back.

The song was never brought up at band meeting, during studio time, in free time. They were sure to put it on the album. They had to.

The day was spent answering uncomfortable questions by paramedics, and sitting down, drifting through forced conversations.

It was too late to save him. He had taken the pills the night before, with alcohol. He stopped breathing soon after. He hadn't eaten anything substantial in a while, the doctor had said, and they wished that they had noticed earlier. 

Freddie wishes that he could have told Roger how much he meant to him, how much he loved him. Maybe if he closes his eyes and counts to ten Roger will still be there, laughing at a successfully pulled prank. So he could scold him and whack him on the back of the head before laughing alongside him.

The anger came next, the shock having worn off, the denial shaken off. The rage that raced through his core, smashing him to pieces, before breaking him down to tears. 

An anger that flushed him in just the wrong way, coursing through his veins and travelling through his home, wrecking everything in sight. 

And how he wished that everything stayed fine, that Roger was still alive and well, that he wouldn't have to deal with this guilt, that all this resentment towards Roger for killing himself, for murdering a piece of his soul, would just go away. Would leave him in peace. 

Leave him alone to cry on the floor. Leave him alone to wallow in peace, to feel his iniquity alone. His guilt for having failed Roger as a friend, for having left Brian and John to fend for themselves, for not being there when he should have. 

It's Roger's funeral, and he has to stand up, say a few words, synopsize a man who couldn't be contained. Achieve acceptance for the death of a soul that should have lived forever.

It's when he sees the masses of crying people, Roger's family, his friends, loved ones, management, roadies, complete strangers, that he feels a stirring in his heart. He can see Queen at the front, alongside family and closest friends, he can see fellow musicians, some included in the group as friends, others to celebrate the life of a legend.

And he realises that this is what this is, not a gathering to mourn, but to celebrate. To toast a man that was stubborn, self-centred, arrogant, beautiful, loyal, kind. To honour the life of a man that should have lived to see so much. 

To mourn the death of a man that had so much ahead of him. Freddie doesn't know how he's going to cope, how Queen can continue when Queen is a band of four. How to handle the uncertainty of the future. How to deal with the fact that his  _ best friend _ committed  _ suicide _ . 

And it's so horribly sad. So terrifyingly, horribly sad. 

But he doesn't have to deal with this alone, and neither do Brian or John. They've got each other. And maybe the future won't seem so uncertain. He can live with half a soul.


End file.
